


the spaces in between your words are like poetry

by arysthaeniru



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, M/M, Navel-Gazing, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysthaeniru/pseuds/arysthaeniru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yanagi isn't sure when he started going through the motions. maybe he always was. sanada somehow manages to highlight and ameliorate his flaws at the same time. the war is forgiving for nobody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the spaces in between your words are like poetry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sumiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumiya/gifts).



> With all my love <3 Here's to your hard work and excellence.

The sun burned down hot against Yanagi Renji’s sweating back, bent over from the weight of the military-backpack and the often smothering Japanese Infantry uniform. He didn't quite see why they had to wear the uniform during drills, especially since it got them sweaty and washing them would only fade the colour, but something about realism had been shouted an there was no room to do anything but obey. Yanagi panted, feeling the weight of everything on his limbs, and paused for a couple of moments to bend over his knees and catch his breath again, a sharp pain rippling through his lower chest. He didn’t think he could run for even another minute, yet they still had an hour of this to go. 

“Hurry up!” screamed the military reservist, who was overseeing the 10 mile run of the Youth School students, spit frothing at the mouth, and Yanagi let out an exhausted groan, unable to quite summon the energy needed to accelerate into a run. His throat was dry and he felt like throwing up or fainting or a mixture of the two. He was definitely overheating, but as much as he wanted water, everybody knew that water thinned the blood and that drinking water while exercising was a surefire way to make the aching sensations worse (1).

“Keep up, Yanagi-kun!” shouted one of his group members, his voice ringing at exactly 530Hz in his ear, but despite that, Yanagi couldn’t bring himself to get up, even though he knew the exact punishment for failing to run, even though he could only afford to succeed in this class. 

And then, from behind him, a warm, calloused hand shook his shoulder, not all that roughly. “Come on, with me.” said a comforting familiar voice and Yanagi looked up to see a silhouetted Sanada pulling him up bodily and forcing Yanagi to jog at the same pace as him. Yanagi coughed, lightly from the pain of moving, but Sanada’s grip on him was firm.

“You’re making it to the finish, even if it’s not with your platoon.” Sanada ordered, sternly, with the abject expectation ringing from his voice, the expectation that came with being Sanada's best friend, of being inseparable, of being the best student in every subject except this. 

He could hear the resentful muttered voices from the group behind him, and Yanagi knew that for anybody else, Sanada would have sternly shouted to keep running, without any sort of remorse. This compassion didn’t suit Sanada in public. Their friendship was saved for behind closed doors, and this sort of thing made Sanada and Yanagi both look weak. With a weary sigh, Yanagi pulled himself away from the strong figure of Sanada and accelerated forward, back towards his group again, heart pounding heavily in his chest and exhaustion weighing at him, his only inspiration being Sanada’s encouraging tone of voice ringing in his ears and the knowledge that he couldn't be a liability to his best friend.

_(In the end, even after that effort, Yanagi and Sanada still crossed the finish line simultaneously from the force of Sanada's powerful legs.)_

Among the war preparations for their era, Sanada Genichirou shone, like a bright light. Sometimes, Yanagi could not stand to look at him, for fear of Sanada seeing straight through him, or for fear of not being worthy, but those moments passed. Regardless of whether they hated his abilities or not, everybody in Kanagawa Preparatory Youth School wanted Sanada to approve of them and to not slap them for being insubordinate or weak. He was perfect for his role as Class Representative and he was the pride of the whole school. Everyone wanted to see the relaxed expression as he clapped someone on the back for doing something loyal, not have to be subjected to his deep frown and long, grave lecture about what was good for the country.

Still, his hard work and integrity made him popular among even the grumpiest of military reserve teachers, and it was a common joke among the other students at that Sanada was one of the gods of war reincarnated in a human body. Sanada didn’t approve of such jokes, but Yanagi thought them quite apt. Sanada excelled in every area that was necessary for a good soldier and a loyal patriot of their country, and put as little effort into other areas as possible, only passing those classes as was necessary to graduate as a soldier of highest honours. 

Sometimes, when they were doing pushups in the school courtyard and Yanagi could feel his insides slowly curling up and dying, Yanagi envied his old friend that talent, of being able to do anything that was necessary for the war, being able to strive to make his body strong, without even a single weakness. Yanagi was not unfit by any means (the war allowed nobody to be that anymore) but he found it difficult to keep up with the numerous stresses on his body and keep pushing past the pain that he endured. His strength, he knew, was not underneath the hot, humid sun, but inside the libraries or the laboratories, trying to change the world for the better. His brain was a talent, and everybody knew that as well, even if it was not well acknowledged anymore. 

And for all of the claims that half of the hours at the five-year training school were supposedly for a vocational, non-military subjects, everything ended up contributing to the war. After morning lessons was military practise, then volunteer work at the telegram office, and then back to studying or training again. And the studies themselves were always about the various applications which would help the country and honour the Emperor, nothing about the long, in-depth research that Yanagi craved to read about. 

“Do you ever get tired of this?” asked Yanagi, as they finished up a long lesson on civics, that had mostly just been more in-depth versions of shibboleth from Kokutai no Hongi (2). Most of the students were stretching, yawning and unpacking their lunches, but Sanada was still reading the last section over again, with an earnestness that made Yanagi’s stomach turn. 

“No art or learning is to be pursued halfheartedly...and any art worth learning will certainly reward more or less generously the effort made to study it.” Sanada stated, firmly, as he shut the book and Yanagi leant back against the desk behind him.

“Don’t quote Genji at me, Genichirou (3).” Yanagi said, frowning slightly, his voice lowering a little, at the sharp look from their teacher at the front of the room. “I know the book better than you. Besides, this is no art.”

Sanada’s eyes also looked towards the teacher at the front of the room, and he tucked away his book, slowly and deliberately, pausing for time to think of the right wording. Yanagi was used to this deliberate pausing and waited, patiently, watching the shadow of Sanada's hair over his forehead flicker. “It’s all for a good reason. Even if it may seem dull, this is what the Emperor has decreed, Renji. To do anything but our best would be disrespecting what he has given us.” 

And that was that. 

_(Later, Yanagi caught him as they both left Kanagawa Preparatory Youth School to leave for their various volunteer efforts, and Yanagi asked the same question again. With the light of the setting sun illuminating his dark hair, Sanada simply said: “Japan cannot afford us to get tired of this.” —which was a more definitive and telling answer.)_

Sanada and Yanagi had known each other for a long time; it was what cemented them as friends. Hailing from the same small street, close to the edge of the sea, and with parents who were on friendly terms, Sanada and Yanagi had always been quiet, responsible children who played well together and rarely quarrelled like many other children, level-headed and cautious, even from a young age. 

Sanada’s mother had found it unusual, after caring for the rambunctious and often rebellious Sanada Nobusuke, Sanada's elder brother, but Yanagi’s mother had marked it off as a godsend and packaged Yanagi off to Sanada’s house after school every day, so she could continue her job as a civil servant in peace. Yanagi's sister had always found somewhere else to be during those occasions, and Yanagi had always felt a slight stab of pity for her never having somebody like Sanada on her side. Even now that he was mostly old enough to look after himself, Yanagi still found himself reading his textbooks on Sanada’s neat tatami floor, out of old habit and familiar comfort. 

Flicking through a few pages in the science book, Yanagi frowned. The reading was long for tonight, wasn’t it? After an afternoon filled with telegrams needing to be delivered all over the town, he didn’t particularly feel like studying the history of their country’s conquests. And if Yanagi was reluctant about his academic responsibilities, Sanada was downright disdainful, taking pushup after pushup in the centre of the room, shirt off completely. Supposedly, he was studying and doing pushups, but the pages hadn’t turned in over ten minutes and Yanagi knew that while Sanada was a slow reader, he wasn’t that slow. 

“You might as well move the book away from you.” Yanagi said, shutting his own textbook, with a weary sigh. Perhaps he’d tackle it later tonight, in his own room. Or perhaps he wouldn’t. He leaned over to the small bulky radio in the corner of the room, and tuned the hazy frequency to the NHK channel. The news was warbling about the death toll of the sudden Chinese offensive which had pushed back the Mongolian forces to Pai-Ling-Miao and Sanada paused, mid-pushup to listen to the amount of reinforcements being sent to aid them.

“Not your brother’s unit.” murmured Yanagi and Sanada resumed his pushups, pushing the book away. His back was gleaming with sweat, underneath the light of the electric lamp burning away in the corner, and Yanagi couldn’t help but marvel at how he seemed to be going strong, even after a long day of military exercises at school and his volunteer work at the construction of the bomb shelters. 

“...Sasuke’s been asking where his father is.” Sanada said, quietly, and his face was furrowed, slightly. 

“Didn’t you just tell him that he’s serving the Emperor and doing his duty to ensure his place next to Amaterasu?” asked Yanagi, with an almost tone of sarcasm. 

There was a long silence, only filled with Sanada’s heavy exhales of breath and the crackling of the last of the news in the background. “Well, that’s a lie, isn’t it?” Sanada murmured, disapprovingly. “Nii-san was dragged off to duty, kicking and screaming, by grandfather (4). He’s not serving with his heart.”

“He’s serving with his body. Isn’t that enough?” Yanagi asked, leaning back against the wall, voice low. Sanada’s family were a model family for the national ideals and probably wouldn’t approve of any discussion like this, though Yanagi found this sort of thing fascinating. 

“Enough for the country.” Sanada allowed, though there was a frown on his face to demonstrate how loathsome he found that idea. “But not enough to gain a place with Amaterasu. The Emperor would disapprove.”

Yanagi nodded, slowly, incorporating Sanada’s opinion into his mind, and lapsed into silence, to listen to the crackling radio programme about Tengo, the courageous teenager fighting against the American menace by obeying his elders and joining the Youth Guard. He felt bitter inside, but could voice none of that to his eldest friend, who loved this country and served his duty, even at the detriment of himself. Yanagi was not that selfless, and wondered what would have happened to them both, had they been born in another time period, less obsessed with the war. 

_(In the end, they don’t finish the homework in time, and both receive three whips on their palms for their trouble. It’s impossible to write for the rest of the day.)_

Youth School was hard work. With inactive-even-if-they-desperately-wanted-to-be-active reservists as teachers and almost insane levels of physical training from a day-to-day basis, combined with the volunteer work most children were required to complete outside of school, most students had an immense amount of responsibility on their shoulders from the moment they entered their three years of high school. Still, Yanagi had never seen someone actively invite more work upon themselves, especially when said student struggled with his load as it was.

“Have you finally gone insane?” hissed Yanagi to Sanada, as Sanada submitted his application for collecting donation money from houses, to the main teacher. It wasn’t an unexpected action, per se, but one that was remarkably idiotic. They waited until they were out of earshot, near the stairwell and Sanada crossed his arms across his chest, a mildly confused look on his face, at the ferocity of Yanagi’s protest.

“There is work to be done, and not enough people to do it. Everybody has to double up on their jobs.” Sanada insisted, his voice quiet. “Especially those who have the capability to do it without falling ill.”

“How many hours do you sleep a day, anyway?” demanded Yanagi, quietly, shaking his head. “And almost of all your waking hours are spent doing something for the war.”

“I sleep enough.” Sanada snapped, and that was enough for Yanagi to know that he was definitely lacking. Still, there was no guilt on his face. He was completely assured in his actions and Yanagi couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of that certainty and belief. “And my waking hours are spent as they should be! As yours should be.” he said, placing his hands on Yanagi’s shoulders, cool and reassuring. But Yanagi was not a wayward younger student to be coerced to the side of the Emperor. 

He pulled away, with a sharp tug, ignoring the wince in his joints from the sudden motion of the action. “How much will the war take from you before you mark a line between yourself and your duty? All of you?” Yanagi demanded icily, before they both fell silent and saluted, as a military reserve passed by.

The taller man frowned at the two of them, from where they hid in the shadows. “You aren’t fighting, are you?” he asked, suspiciously, at Yanagi’s vaguely pinched expression and Sanada’s frown. Yanagi shut his eyes and tried to fade as much into the background as he could. As unremarkable and unnoticeable as possible. 

“No sir.” they chorused, in unison, though Sanada’s voice cracked suspiciously in the middle. The military reserve walked away, but they didn’t relax until they couldn’t hear any footsteps. 

Sanada swallowed heavily and glared at Yanagi. “It’s unpatriotic to say anything against the war in the current climate, Renji. We must all put our best foot forward and use our talents to their advantage. I can work like a horse. Therefore, I will use that.” He tapped Yanagi’s head, lightly. “You should use yours.”

Exhaling heavily, Yanagi nodded, the unsaid words welling up in his throat like spring water, after a mountain melt. Sanada glowed almost golden in the sunlight, and he looked like the perfect Japanese boy that was painted in every textbook, with the straight set of his back and stern words. But before anything could be said or done to spitefully ruin that image, the bell rung, and they headed back in for another hour of meaningless lectures. 

_(Yanagi wasn’t sure Sanada even remembered anything except how to be a patriotic citizen anymore, and that thought made him inexplicably sad.)_

The sound of chirping cicadas near the edge of the Kanagawa coast line was near unbearable in the evenings. When Yanagi did his telegram runs, he was almost tempted to bring a large swatter with him as well, to try and get rid of the noise. But it would be a fruitless attempt, and there would just be more the next day. So Yanagi tolerated it, as best he could.

He ended up doing that a lot nowadays. Tolerating things that he found entirely despicable or vaguely uncomfortable. Lessons, mostly, but little comments about the rest of the world and other countries that set his teeth on edge. It was rather disconcerting to hear smaller children talking about how they were going to kill all of the Americans, with such a cheerful tone. His face was getting better at being entirely impassive. He could sit through the punishing push-up drills under the burning sun, without so much as a noise or a twitch of his facial muscles betraying his internal feelings of pain. He could sit through diatribes against his personal honour and family pride without so much as a frown. He could endure hours of lessons about the honour of dying for the Emperor without even a sound against it. 

It was just a mask. A pretense, a bandage put over a festering sore. But as Sanada liked to remind him, with significant glances and gruff quotes from recent literature, people were watching and to be anything but wholeheartedly for the war was dangerous. The Kempeitai could swoop down at any moment and capture him and all of his family, to ensure his utmost loyalty and Yanagi couldn’t willingly do that to his Mother (5). But the war corrupted every part of life, and Yanagi was fed up of it. 

“Ahh, Yanagi-kun, you’re done delivering today.” confirmed Iki-san, from the telegram desk, looking rather flustered with her papers. “Thank you for all of your hard work.”

“As always.” he murmured, dipping his head, as he slipped into the back desk and helped her pull apart the stacks of paper, to sort them neatly. She smiled, gratefully, and sat back a little, to breathe, tugging at the collar of her uniform. 

“You and your elder sister were always godsends for this office. Without her and you, this telegram office wouldn’t run properly!” she said, with a laugh, as Yanagi efficiently sorted them out and handed her the box of elastic bands that she was searching for. 

Yanagi just smiled and nodded his gratitude, as he took a seat next to her and started to put away the books he’d left there before he’d gone on his delivery run. But Iki-san had turned around to watch and picked up one of the books still left. “Engineering? I didn’t know that you went to a Specialized School (6).”

Yanagi felt his face stiffen. “I don’t.” he said, curtly, taking the book from her hands, and firmly tucking it into his bag, feeling a twinge of annoyance. “If I was, I would not be here, would I? The nearest engineering specialist school is in Yokohama.” he said, curtly, not meeting her gaze. The question had been posed to him several times, and each time it was breached, Yanagi disliked it more. 

“Oh.” she said, looking slightly abashed. She looked away and coughed, awkwardly and twitched, staring down at her lap. Yanagi finished packing his bag, rose and touched her shoulder briefly, to show that he didn’t hold any hard feelings. “Tomorrow, Iki-san?” he asked, politely. 

“Ah! Yes. Tomorrow, Yanagi-kun.” she said, with a slightly warier smile and a gentle wave. Yanagi exhaled, heavily and started the long walk home, the cicadas chirping in his ears, again, through the still, hazy air. It was warm for autumn and Yanagi was sure that winter was going to be furious in retribution for this additional heat. Telegram running was only going to get worse like this. 

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why he volunteered at the telegram office. He didn’t much enjoy the business of running around to deliver letters to people, and since Iki-san did the vast majority of the transcribing, he didn’t even get to work with the telegram set all too much. Was he doing it because his sister had done so, before she’d signed herself up to be a nurse closer to Tokyo? Was he just using it to boost his social image? Was he here because he was bored?

With a morose sigh, Yanagi stuck his hands in his pockets and started to run over the reading and essays that needed to be finished for the following day, in the order in which he’d need them. He was a little late today, so it was likely that Sanada would have forgone the homework headstart, to do extra situps. It was typical of Sanada to neglect schoolwork without Yanagi prodding him. 

Waving hello to Sanada-san who was sewing something in the kitchen, and Sasuke who was fiddling with something in the living room, Yanagi slipped around the back of the house, to get to Sanada’s room. As expected, Sanada was shirtless and pulling himself through a complicated series of sit-ups, face red from exertion, and sweat pouring down his face. Still, he slowed to a halt as Yanagi entered, shed himself of his school jacket and pulled out his school books. “You look unsettled.” Sanada commented, and Yanagi felt a little surprised that _Sanada_ had been able to identify a difference in Yanagi’s impassive faces. 

“It’s nothing.” Yanagi countered rapidly, as he leant back against the wall, eyes focusing down on the bruises against Sanada's wrists. “What did you do to your arms?”

“It’s nothing.” Sanada said, gravely, though there was a slight pull of his mouth, upwards. 

Yanagi raised an eyebrow and sharpened his pencil with the small penknife that every Japanese schoolboy carried with them. “If I told anybody at school that you were capable of being a smartass, they’d throw me in a sanatorium.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not telling anyone.” Sanada answered, easily, as he restarted his situps. “Well?”

Yanagi exhaled but smiled lightly at Sanada. He knew that his taciturn friend was more than capable of holding the stubborn silence for a long time, if lead to it. And while Yanagi was no stranger to prolonged quiet, being summarily ignored by Sanada was always discomfiting, like being thrown into a raging river sideways and enduring it without a single cry. “Iki-san thought that I had gone to a Specialized School. That’s all.” he said, quietly. 

Sanada just nodded and, to Yanagi’s relief, didn’t comment on it. Everybody and their mother always asked why Yanagi hadn’t taken the fast track to becoming an engineer, why he had stuck around for a military education that was unlikely to lead to university in this current state of total war. But Sanada had never pried into matters that didn’t immediately relate to him, and that was something Yanagi appreciated, tremendously. 

“Today, some of the people threw the donation boxes back in our faces. Said they had given enough, they weren’t giving more.” Sanada said, and there was frustration in his tone, as he hit the tatami with a particularly loud thump. “Ungrateful sots. They’d have nothing if it wasn’t for the generosity of the state.”

“Not everyone is willing to pour their heart and soul into the war.” Yanagi remarked, mildly, turning a page in his book, making a couple of notes in the margin, faintly. “It is not easy. Even if you make it look easy.”

“It is easy.” Sanada stated, as if it was a universal truth for everyone, and not something extraordinarily unique. How he could be so understanding on some issues and completely brash about others, Yanagi didn’t know. 

They were silent for a few more moments, the sound of Sasuke laughing faintly from outside filling the air, before Sanada broached the topic, finally. “Renji...do you agree with the war?” he asked, quietly and Yanagi went still. He didn’t want to lie to Sanada. But neither could he say the truth, not in this nationalistic house, not surrounded by these loyal walls and people. He tapped his pencil against the face of their War Generals, printed impeccably inside his textbook, and frowned. 

“Regardless of my opinion, the war continues.” he said, instead, carefully. “To say anything else would be to undermine my father’s sacrifice for this nation.” He wondered whether Sanada could read the undercurrents in his words. The clearly disturbed look on his face, as he continued to pant through his exercises, showed that he did. 

_(Before Yanagi leaves, Sanada clasps Yanagi’s hand tightly and nods, softly, in understanding. Yanagi feels a sharp, wild stab of happiness that he was the only person with whom Sanada would ever do this for.)_

Their town was always crawling with off-duty sailors nowadays, especially as one drew closer to the city centre and the pubs, where the warmth was centred during the bitter winter months. Yanagi pulled a face as he squeezed past a few of them. One looked irritated, but most of them were too busy smoking to be annoyed by one kid, and besides, Yanagi had already gone. The key to delivering telegrams quickly, was to walk quickly and to move quietly. That way, people could just walk by you and barely notice you. It helped that despite Yanagi’s height, he was someone with plain features and someone that could easily fade away into the scenery if he concentrated hard enough. 

He looked down at the note again and quickly slipped into the coffee shop. “Tanaka-san?’ he asked, tapping the back of a lady who wasn’t currently chattering. “I have a telegram for you.”

She nodded, listlessly, picking up the paper and opening it. The other women at the table, turned a little, in expectant silence now. Her posture slowly straightened as she read through the whole letter before she sobbed with joy. “He’s alive! They made a mistake with the filing, he’s actually alive, but injured! He’s coming home!” she sobbed, and all of the women at the table surged forward to give her a hug. Yanagi nodded and slipped away, quietly. 

Just as he was about the exit the door, Tanaka-san ran back to him and pressed a few yen coins into his hands. “Thank you!” she said, looking entirely ecstatic. Yanagi considered returning the money on the basis that all he’d done was deliver the letter, but money was money, so he nodded his gratitude and walked away, quietly, money settling at the bottom of his pocket. 

There were always scenes like this. The first time he’d started delivering telegrams, almost three years ago, he too had been emotionally touched by the things that people received in their telegrams. But the war infiltrated every aspect of existence, like smoke creeping through the air, and the deaths and lives of strangers no longer meant much to him. Just another number to add to his list, to his tallies to his numbers in his head. 

He slipped out towards the street and headed towards the area that Sanada had said he would be doing collection today, the last telegram in hand. The air was bitterly cold now, and he could feel the cold creep in under his thick scarf as he left the town and the warm establishments there in. Yanagi swallowed, ducked his head and kept walking, coolly and calmly. Running would make him faster and warmer, but running was too obtrusive. Besides, Yanagi mused, glancing down at the telegram in hand from one Sanada Nobusuke, he had a feeling that Sanada would not much enjoy the contents of said telegram. 

As he finally drew close to the primarily richer area, Yanagi quickly recognized the figure of Sanada and another girl, tall and slender. As they drew closer, Yanagi recognized the girl as the younger sister of Tachibana-senpai, who’d been recently dispatched to the aviation services. 

“Genichirou!” called Yanagi, clearly and stilled, so Sanada and Tachibana would fall in step with him. Yanagi wordlessly handed the telegram to Sanada before Sanada could ask any questions as to his whereabouts, and Sanada’s clear face furrowed into a frown, slowly, as he slit open the top of the telegram. 

Sanada swallowed heavily, and the Tachibana girl shamelessly read over his shoulder. Yanagi, knowing that Sanada would speak up about it, didn’t do anything but look over Tachibana’s meagre collections box. It barely rattled as they walked and Yanagi felt a sharp stab of annoyance that Sanada was wasting his time and energy on something that was hardly fruitful. It seemed like a waste of effort--not that Sanada would ever class it as such. 

“Nii-san’s leaving somewhere now. Finally.” said Sanada, handing the telegram back to Yanagi. Yanagi looked over the letter, with a light frown. 

_Genichirou. Have been dispatched. We are preparing to invade ████████ to increase our territory in ████████. Are you happy now? If I don’t come back, tell Sasuke I love him and Maya that I wish I could have done her better. Do not reply. Do not expect any more telegrams. Nobusuke._

“Invading...” Yanagi murmured, as he handed the letter back to Sanada, who tucked it into his pocket. “Not Korea, nor Mongolia, nor Manchuria.”

“It’s obviously somewhere in China.” Tachibana-chan said, crossing her hands across her chest, dancing slightly on her toes. “Hasn’t all of our attacks led up to weakening China’s strengths so we could eventually take over them?”

“And with their civil war further dividing them, it’s the perfect timing to try and get them to crumble entirely, instead of just chipping away at their land slowly...” Sanada murmured, and there was a grim, poignant silence between them as they continued to walk. 

“It’s not going to be easy.” Tachibana-chan murmured, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Even if we are superior to them, there are so many of them.” She was obviously thinking of her brother in that moment, so clearly vulnerable, and Yanagi awkwardly patted her back, when it looked like Sanada was too sunk in thought to say anything.

“We’ll win.” Sanada said, finally, as he took the almost-empty box from Tachibana-chan, and tucked it under his arm. 

“At what cost?” asked Yanagi, and the three of them looked at each other for a few moments, before Tachibana-chan clicked her tongue and adjusted her hat over her ears. 

“I’m going home.” she said, with a frustrated sigh. “Nobody’s giving us any money, Sanada-kun. They’re already giving up their children and fathers, they don’t want to lose their money too.” With that, she spun on her heel, and stalked off, away from the houses. 

Sanada exhaled and pressed a hand to his head, looking tired and frustrated. He glanced down at the box for a long time and Yanagi wondered what was running through Sanada’s mind. The setting winter sun shone from behind Yanagi, illuminating the conflicted look in Sanada’s eyes and the tense set of his shoulders. And suddenly, his shoulders straightened into a more natural look and Sanada’s eyes fluttered shut. There was something akin to peace on his face, before he turned to nod at Yanagi. 

“You should head back to the telegram office. I’m going to keep going with this. I’ll be back later.” Sanada fished out the telegram from his pocket again and handed it to Yanagi. “Give this to my mother.”

With that, he turned away to knock at the house closest to them. Yanagi’s lips pressed together and wondered why it was that duty always seemed to win for Sanada, why duty seemed more crucial than anything for people like Sanada and his own father. 

_(The scream that Sanada’s mother emitted upon reading the letter was not one of disappointment and grief like that of his own mother’s, but of pride and happiness. They ate a celebration dinner that night and Yanagi had no appetite for the rich meat dishes.)_

The morning air was chill enough from inside the cramped classrooms of the Youth School, but from the edge of the sea, shivering miserably together at the harsh sea breeze coasting over their bare skin, it was like Yanagi was freezing from inside out. He exchanged a look with Sanada who looked entirely unamused by this entire debacle. Unfortunately, swimming training was mandatory for every Japanese man who was expected to enroll in the military.

“Well then, you little shits! Get in the water!!” screamed the military reserve. Yanagi couldn’t help but darkly note how tightly wrapped up their teacher seemed to be, in three layers of clothes and a scarf tucked around his neck. Easy for him to command the students to submerge themselves into the Pacific Sea first thing in the morning. 

“Sir, it’s freezing!” complained one of the idiot students next to Yanagi, who was unceremoniously picked up by the military reserve and immediately thrown into the sea, stomach first. 

“Do you think the Americans will give you a choice of when you have to swim? Get in the goddamn water!” screamed the military reserve, startling one of the cormorants on the cliffs around them. The sound of flapping wings filled the air and exchanging a very reluctant look with Sanada, Yanagi and Sanada waded into the water, slowly and tenderly. 

“Let’s just submerge ourselves.” Sanada said, as they got thigh-deep in the water, and Yanagi’s teeth started chattering. “Three, two one...”

Yanagi dived underneath the waves and screamed into the water with shock, letting the air bubbles leave his mouth. The water was black and cold and it felt like he was being consumed by the frost and chill, until all that was left of him was an icicle. But, as he surged forward, forcing his sore muscles to move, it didn’t feel all so bad as wading into the water slowly had. As Yanagi surfaced to grab a gasp of cold, biting air, he could distantly hear the military reserve shouting about the example that Yanagi and Sanada were setting. Sanada surfaced next to him, shaking off his hair, looking thoroughly pale, except for his ears, which were turning redder and redder. 

“I’ll tell you this,” Yanagi said, exhaling heavily, pushing his sopping wet hair away from his eyes, “The Americans cannot do anything worse than this.”

Sanada nodded, in grim agreement, and they both started to slice through the water, fighting against the inward flow of water. It was a little easier to swim in this punishing cold than it was to run in the humid heat of summer afternoons. Yanagi found it easy to keep up with Sanada’s pace like this, and as the sun slowly started to rise from ahead of them, Yanagi’s muscles were starting to warm up from his motion, slowly but surely.

They stopped after a while, when it was almost impossible to see the outline of the reserve by the far-away shore. The sound of their fellow students splashing and screaming was distant and Yanagi turned himself around to look at the way that Kanagawa looked, illuminated by the sun.

“It really does look like the Emperor’s blessed land.” Sanada commented, softly, as he treaded water, hair clinging to the nooks and crannies of his face. 

Yanagi’s face tightened and he turned towards the sunrise. Japan, the land of the rising sun. The blessed land. The blessed people. But his heart could not feel the same warmth that Sanada felt about his home. “This is what the Americans will see if they invade. I wonder they think of us.”

“They think we’re nothing.” Sanada said, instantly. “They don’t see us as anything.”

“If they truly thought nothing of us, why are we so scared of their attack?” asked Yanagi, softly. “If they thought nothing of us, they would ignore us. No, America is _concerned_ about our influence in Asia.”

Sanada shrugged. “They treated us like nothing in the Treaty of Versailles. Our people who went there as honest immigrants, have been treated like rubbish by the Americans. They clearly see us as nothing more than ants. But we’ll show them how much they’ve underestimated us.” His voice sounded firm and confident, as if the whole world was about to unfold at his feet and his view about Japan was crystal-clear and unshakeable. 

Exhaling softly, Yanagi smiled, a bitter tinge to his expression. “I envy you that outlook.” he said, quietly. “I can’t see Japan in that sort of light. I might as well agree with the Americans.”

Sanada looked at Yanagi, swallowing heavily. “Because your father died for Japan?’

It was such a sudden and out-of-the-blue comment, that Yanagi’s head got submerged by the wave that he hadn’t floated up over, and he sputtered as he made his way back up to the surface, pushing his hair away from his face again. Sanada wasn’t smiling, but there was a light air of amusement around his posture and Yanagi regained his breathing slowly. They were both used to the silences between thoughts, and Sanada deserved to be kept waiting after something like that. “Not because he died for Japan.” Yanagi murmured, finally, as the shadows of gulls gliding above them, rippled across the glistening water, “He’d always been prepared for that. But he had to kill for Japan.”

Sanada’s brows furrowed, but the unsaid words in Yanagi’s throat couldn’t help but explode, out here where nobody was watching or listening or caring about Yanagi’s treason. “My father was a good man. A nice man. Everybody says it! But how many men did he destroy in the Manchuria invasion? A hundred, a thousand? And now they will force you and countless other good men across this country to do the same, and you will follow your duty. After giving your life, your health, your sleep and your peace of mind for this country, you will give up your soul. And that will be the biggest tragedy.” The words spilled freely from Yanagi’s mouth, out here in the ocean, and it was Sanada’s turn to lapse into silence, as he stared at Yanagi’s uncharacteristic vehemence. 

“And yet the Emperor demands it.” said Sanada, quietly, his gaze turning back towards the children, who were still slowly making their way forward shouting about the cold, “I find it hard to believe that kami-sama will condemn us for what our Emperor asks of us.”

Despite his own desire to continue on this vein and breach the topic which so divided their similar souls, Yanagi caught Sanada’s annoyance at the proximity of the other students, and in respect of Sanada's own reputation and his mother's hard work, they both started to swim back towards the shore, easily cutting through the water, much to the protests of the other students, who threw friendly annoyed barbs at them both. 

Shivering next to their school bus, the topic of which they had spoken before did not seem appropriate anymore, but the weight of what was unspoken hung between them awkwardly. As they redressed, Sanada’s face looked pensive, jaw jutting out as he sunk himself deeper into thought. Yanagi felt lighter though, from the eruption of pent-up words that he had wanted to say for so long, yet he could not help but feel sad for his unknowing addition of burdens to Sanada’s laden shoulders. It had been stupid to say those things to Sanada, of all people. Even if Sanada accepted Yanagi's treasonous thoughts, he did not understand where they came from, and that lack of understanding would plague his friend long into the night, something for which Yanagi couldn't help but feel implacably guilty for. 

Sanada caught his look and lifted his jaw. “I believe that words uttered in passion contain a greater living truth than do those words which express thoughts rationally conceived (7).” he quoted, a quiet solemnity throughout his posture. They didn’t ease Yanagi’s guilt, nor did they lift the burden that Yanagi had placed upon Sanada’s broad shoulders, but somehow, Soseki’s words let them smile on the way back to the school. 

_(In five months, they would would both come of age, with barely a couple of weeks between both events, and there would not be many conversations like this anymore.)_

As the winter ended, and the smallest signs of life started to flourish again, all discussion started to turn more and more towards the war, until studies were almost a secondary thing in the minds of most. With students in their year disappearing to be recruited, one by one, the general atmosphere was a mixture of tension and grief. 

Still, time stopped for nobody and the days edged on, in a mixture of work and exercise and training. The weekdays were always busy, and Yanagi never stopped working in some way or another. And Sundays were days of work at home, buying food for the week, cleaning and running errands for family members, which turned out to be another day of little rest. But Yanagi treasured Saturday afternoons more than anything, for after morning classes, there were no volunteer duties held, and all schoolchildren were given a little time to enjoy themselves properly.

Sanada always looked reluctant to use these quiet times for himself, yearning to go and do more muscle training or to run around the outskirts of Kanagawa, but since the clock ticked down to their enlistment, Yanagi quietly coerced Sanada to come with him to have picnics by the sea, or read a book by the edges of the town, or drink tea in their favourite teahouse or to visit an onsen with him and once Sanada forgot that there were duties to do, he was generally a very different person, with little guilt about enjoying himself. 

Today, he’d managed to force Sanada into seeing a movie reel with him, and while Sanada seemed rather tensed about the whole affair, Yanagi was waiting for the movie to begin and for the tension to melt away from Sanada’s shoulders, slowly. Still, as they walked through the town, it was hard to ignore the war. 

As Sanada stopped to tie his shoelaces properly, a small trio of sailors almost stepped on him, sniggering in their drunken state. Sanada glared at them acidly, as they left, clearly disgusted by their dereliction of duty. “What a disgrace to Japan they are.” Sanada commented darkly.

“Not enlisting into the navy then?” asked Yanagi, lightly as he adjusted his bag over his chest. 

Sanada laughed shortly. “No, I’m still going to the Navy. Our infantry will be dealing with China, Korea and Manchuria. I’d prefer to defend our nation for an outside threat, than to save other nations from themselves.” He brushed back some of his hair, a smirk etched across his face. “Besides, _someone_ needs to redeem our naval forces.” 

Yanagi laughed, softly and lowly, as they brushed past a couple of young married women, who were giving Sanada some rather inviting looks. Sanada, of course, dismissed it without a second thought, and Yanagi’s mouth twitched slightly. “They will welcome you with open arms, I’m sure of it. Every armed force will want you among their ranks once you are of age.”

The street was busy, today and Yanagi wasn’t entirely sure why, but there were swarms of people, fighting to walk through the small city centre. There was a 65.6% chance that a new shipment of soldiers had stopped here for shore leave duty, but it was rather frustrating to not know the exact reason. He’d ask Iki-san tomorrow.

“And where do you think you will go, Renji?” asked Sanada pausing them to cross the road. Not many cars trundled down their streets, only carriages and horse-carts, but there were a couple today, as the car manufacture started to boom a little. 

Yanagi shrugged, lightly. “It doesn't matter to me.” he said, carelessly. And that was true, as surprising as the statement felt when spoken aloud. All military services would be the same monotonous, terrifying drill, it didn't matter which of those he picked. "Perhaps the Navy as well. To keep an eye on you."

Sanada smiled, humourlessly and Yanagi glanced ahead of them. Between the countless schoolchildren and sailors who flocked to the town centre, there stood a man with long white hair. But it was no old man, not in his posture and the casual confidence that filled most of the youngsters of today. Dyed? At this time? Yet he drew no gaze from the people around him, despite that bizarre appearance and Yanagi frowned, trying to intently divine who this was. 

But his process was interrupted by Sanada, who had a somewhat tentative look on his face. "Renji, may I ask why it is that you didn't go to the engineering specialized school?"

The question was phrased carefully to not offend and to be as unobtrusive as possible. For the blunt Sanada, it couldn't have been an easy process to formulate the question and break his usual stance of lack of curiousity. Yet he had for Yanagi, and that thought brought a fond smile to Yanagi’s face, despite the subject matter. "The blood on the hands of the man who designed the automatic machine gun far surpasses that on the hands of the individual soldier who wields it." Yanagi explained, carefully. "I would not wish for an innovation of mine to be used to that end." 

There was a quiet pause between them and Yanagi could practically see Sanada mulling over that response. "Death is that vile to you, Renji?" Sanada asked, legitimate confusion marring his eyes. "Dying for your country is often an honour."

"Yet, if he had a choice, I guarantee you most men would not wish to die at all." Yanagi countered, with a light shrug. "Say what you will about preserving honour and pride, but we mourn deaths. They are sad occasions and our country's current trend towards idolizing it disturbs me." 

Sanada’s brows rose. "We _must_ fight the enemy." He said firmly, "There is little room for forgiveness in this."

"Yet Sasuke’s greatest wish and aspiration at eight years old is to kill all the Americans. Doesn't that disturb you at all?" Yanagi asked, coolly. 

"He blames them for Nobusuke not being here! He doesn't understand that Nobusuke's serving peace in China." Sanada said, his voice clipped and filled with annoyance. "Children have always been greatly enamored with death and this hatred serves him better than crushing disappointment."

Yanagi rolled his eyes. “How much can you justify those actions, Genichirou?” he demanded, loudly, “We have to be able to critically examine our actions. And our actions in mainland Asia have never been moral. Downright stupid at some points with lives lost! Nevermind the Americans, we’ve not yet clashed with them _once_. We keep preparing to fight someone who we haven’t yet faced and would be unlikely to face in the future, if it weren't for our reckless actions.”

Sanada jaw jutted out. “I’m not going to apologize for wanting to see them properly cowed. Perhaps there is a trend of unnecessary violence, but you know how difficult it is to motivate people, Renji. If you only go halfway, it’s never enough. We’re in this to boost our economy and show the world who the dominant power is. Is that wrong? Perhaps, but it’s in service of the Emperor.”

Yanagi was about to respond when the white-haired man ahead of them chuckled. “Too much violence has never been much of a problem for children.” He turned around, winked and walked away. 

They both froze as he disappeared into a shop next to them. Sanada’s lips pressed together and Yanagi quickly made his facial expression completely impassive and pulled in on himself, making himself as unobtrusive as possible. Yet when Yanagi went inside to go and look at the clientele, the man had completely disappeared. Not even when Yanagi looked carefully at everyone browsing, could he see the flash of white hair, nor the peculiar suit the other man had worn. Had he gone to the back--? But staying to investigate would waste time. 

“You think he heard everything?” asked Sanada, voice hushed, as Yanagi quickly walked out and pulled Sanada bodily from the shop, before Sanada did anything too noticeable. 

“Most likely. He’s been in front of us for some time.” Yanagi hissed, quietly, as they quickly brushed past the people in the crowd, moving quickly enough that it would be hard for the people passing to overhear. “I should have been quieter, I apologize, Genichirou.” 

“Not your fault alone.” Sanada said, with a grim nod. “What do we do now though?” He looked worried and irritated at himself, and Yanagi’s lips pressed together, 

“We go to the movies. After all, loyal, well-rounded young patriots like us have nothing to fear, do we?” asked Yanagi, tilting his head up coolly. Sanada pressed a hand to his face, and said nothing. Yanagi wasn’t entirely sure of what to do either. There was almost no doubt that he was a kempei officer, and Yanagi wondered whether this would be enough to get them arrested or not. 

_(Yanagi can’t exactly blame Sanada for not relaxing through the movie, but it’s a little disappointing nevertheless, to not see that expression of peace again.)_

The next week was spent in a constant state of tension. Both he and Sanada jumped at noises and everybody noticed how much more stern and short-tempered Sanada was. Some speculated it was due to the close proximity of his enlistment, but of course, only Yanagi knew the truth behind Sanada’s increased violence and temper. 

He couldn’t exactly blame Sanada either. Kempeitai could cause severe damage to families or stability and afterwards, the reputation of someone taken away by the Kempeitai was always damaged. Yanagi was a little on edge himself, though of course, any sort of irritation and apprehension was easier for him to hide, with so much practise at doing such a thing. He worried though, for his sister in Tokyo and his mother who was so busy working to earn them the money that their father no longer could. Yanagi felt a twinge of guilt for all of this. If any kempei showed up at their doorstep, she would be very frightened and confused. He felt angry at himself, mostly, for being so stupid, for voicing those thoughts in a place where people could have heard him. It had barely been alright when they had been out in the ocean, but he had repeated his mistake of burdening Sanada again, with his ruining thoughts and Yanagi could feel nothing but sorrow at that. Perhaps it would have been easier to shut up this time, had he always let the dam on his words stay closed previously. The thoughts clashed together in his head, a constant cacophony of panic, a quieter form of his discontent. And even through all of this, he felt completely disillusioned by the fact that people were even scared of speaking their mind. Surely, this could not be what the Emperor wanted. 

Still, when nobody came to escort them to holding facilities after a week, it seemed like Sanada was starting to relax a little, as they sat in his room, writing out Chinese practise exercises, after a long day of volunteer work and running. Yanagi couldn’t help but feel the tension ease a little from himself, as well, though he still wondered about the significance of the event. “It doesn’t make any sense.” grumbled Sanada.

“Chinese is necessary for any sort of survival in that warzone. And who knows where you’ll get deployed, even if you do join the Navy.” Yanagi said, evenly, his brain tingling a little at the rapid switch between Chinese and Japanese. 

“Not Chinese.” Sanada said, though Yanagi could see the annoyed expression that Sanada had about having to learn a language that they’d been told was inferior to Japanese. “The man with white hair. The one who was listening to us. He must have been Kempeitai, but nothing’s happened. And besides, isn’t that frivolity not allowed for officers?”

Yanagi bit his lip. The dyed hair still rankled at him, he didn’t understand how that was allowed. And if he was supposedly spying on people, wouldn’t it help to not be instantly recognizable? “Perhaps our other patriotic activities acted as a counter to our comments. They were fairly mild, after all.” At Sanada’s slightly raised eyebrow, Yanagi raised his hands upwards, in light defence. “Alright, alright, that’s just wishful thinking. I was actually thinking that perhaps he wasn’t Kempeitai. Because we were just talking about enlistment when he started tailing us. There was no reason to listen in at that point. I think he was something else.”

Sanada frowned, leaning forward, his Chinese exercises now forgotten. “But what else would he be?”

Yanagi licked his lips. “Someone that was interested in where you were enlisting. Perhaps a recruiter for a different agency? Wondering how to persuade you to come to their agency?”

“Wouldn’t he have started with a business card?” asked Sanada, looking unimpressed. “That would make a better impression than spying on our conversation and giving us a heart-attack.” He crossed his arms across his chest.

“It’s a precursor. To see how you’d react and how firmly set upon your current enlistment decision you are. That’s what I’d do anyway, if I wanted to be sure of getting you to be in my agency.” Yanagi murmured. “The only thing that doesn’t add up is why he spoke at all. Was it a warning?” 

Sanada shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. “I suppose any governmental agency should be glad that they don’t have you as their recruiting officer. They’d never get anyone to join with that sort of attitude.” There was definitely a sort of smugness to his tone and his entire body language was expectant for something. Yanagi reached over to Sanada’s forgotten textbook and whacked Sanada over the head with it.

“Do you even know how to conjugate the future tense properly?” demanded Yanagi in Mandarin Chinese, and Sanada exhaled and turned back to his exercises, diligently. 

Yanagi wrote for another fifteen minutes, before Sanada-san rushed into the room, eyes worried. “Yanagi-kun?” she asked, looking somewhat concerned. “It’s your mother, She asked me to call you back home, for today. She said it was rather urgent.”

Yanagi blinked and exchanged a look with Sanada, whose eyes were burning with horror and determination. Was this the consequence of their actions finally hitting them? Had Yanagi’s ideas been wrong? Wordlessly, Yanagi packed up his books and straightened, with a light nod to Sanada. “Good day.” he said, quietly, and Sanada got up to follow him outside. 

“I can wait outside your house...if they’re coming for you, I can vouch for your loyalty and honesty.” Sanada said, fiercely, his hand on Yanagi’s shoulder as warm as the onsen water they both loved. Yanagi smiled, faintly at Sanada and shook his head. 

“Stay out of it. Your family doesn’t deserve the consequences for my actions and my questions. If I don’t see you again...” Yanagi trailed off as Sanada shook him fiercely. 

“Don’t be stupid!” Sanada bellowed, scaring the cat that was crossing the street ahead of them. “Don’t give up so easily. Cooperate if you ask you anything and get back to join the army. This is nothing. I expect to see you back in school tomorrow, do you understand?” demanded Sanada, with the voice that he used to motivate the people in their class to do well. Usually, Yanagi would resent that action, but he needed it, needed to hear that powerful voice telling him to stop worrying. He pulled Sanada into a long hug, which Sanada easily reciprocated. 

“...I’ll try.” Yanagi said, quietly, pulling away and straightening his back as he walked down their road, trying to pull his mask of impassivity together.

There was a black car outside their house and Yanagi could almost feel the colour seep from his skin. This was it, then. But he had to be honest, and he had to be calm, that was the only way to get through this and make sure the rest of his family weren’t affected. He entered through the door calmly, removing his shoes at the door, with a short ‘Tadaima’ to announce his presence. His mother, still in work clothing, took one look at him and submerged him in a surprised hug.

“My love, please say no.” she whispered, into his ear, before she stepped away and walked away to her bedroom. Yanagi frowned as he walked into the kitchen. Weren’t the whole family interrogated together when loyalty became an issue? 

He paused upon seeing the officer at their kitchen table. He was shorter than Yanagi, and somewhat slender, but the way his head was tilted and the confident smile on his face clearly indicated his power and marked him as a man to not be crossed. He rose, to acknowledge Yanagi, before making a silent hand gesture to let Yanagi sit. The first that Yanagi couldn’t help but notice was how long the man’s hair was. Most soldiers cut their hair short, but his, pulled back in a neat tail, was clearly well-taken care of. And with its almost blue tint, in the fading light of the spring sun, he looked rather regal, in a very different way to Sanada.

Taking the offered seat (never mind that it should have been Yanagi’s to offer since it _was_ Yanagi’s kitchen), Yanagi inclined his head, in a silent greeting. Silence was best for now, it would be better to hear what the officer thought before Yanagi said anything unnecessary. 

The officer smiled, and opened the file on his desk, as if to read from it. But his gaze, was directed on Yanagi as he started to talk, and it made Yanagi feel rather uncomfortable. “Yanagi Renji. Age 17. Born on the 4th of June, 1921. One elder sister, Yanagi Izanami working as a nurse in Tokyo. Father, Yanagi Hosuke died in the Manchurian quelling. Mother, Yanagi Emi, working as a bureaucrat in Kanagawa Prefectural Building. Yanagi Renji himself works as a telegram agency worker, delivering letters everywhere with efficiency and speed. Very highly commended by the main officer in the telegram office. Grades in school are exemplary, if a little lacking in physical activities. Marked as best in class for Chinese, Japanese and Mathematics. Otherwise, ranked somewhere in the top ten of the class. Despite this academic excellence, the teachers have very little comments about you, except for your prominent friendship with Sanada Genichirou, one of the most athletic children in class and your mild-mannered attitude.” The officer shut the file with a small thud and turned to Yanagi, who had been silently watching him, with confusion. 

“It’s what they don’t say about you, that I find more interesting than what they do.” said the officer, a light smirk on his face as he leant forward. “Because what the lack of comments tells me is that you hide yourself in all ways possible, to avoid drawing attention despite your excellence being something to be rewarded. The only place where you compromise your attention is on friendship, and you make friends with one of the most prominent and popular figures in class, someone easy to fade away behind, really.” Yanagi felt frozen to his place, his breathing more shallow. He’d never...he wasn’t friends with Sanada for that! Truly!

“And what you hide behind the most patriotic boy in class, is your own somewhat disdain for the actions of country and your own apathy about the war. Impressive, truly, I’ve not seen many people so well-hidden and camouflaged as you.” the officer finished, his piercing blue eyes staring deep in Yanagi’s soul. Despite Sanada’s encouragement to keep positive, Yanagi couldn’t help but feel the sinking sensation in his stomach. 

“Officer, I’m not quite sure what it is that you want from me.” said Yanagi, in a calmer voice than he’d expected. Not one whit of his internal turmoil and panic was revealed. 

“Ah. I apologize, I haven’t introduced myself.” said the officer, with a light laugh. It sounded like water trickling down a stream, despite the somewhat sharp look in his eyes. “Yukimura Seiichi. I’m with the Dark Ocean Society.” 

Yanagi’s blood ran cold. The Dark Ocean Society were known to be a nationalist secret society, to whom membership was limited to the rich and affluent. They were considered a subsection of the Kempeitai and even more dangerous than them, for the Dark Ocean Society were not above taking illegal actions to make their goals come to fruition. “And what do I owe the honour of this visit for, Officer Yukimura?” asked Yanagi, continuing to play dumb. This was not simply a visit to remind him of his loyalties if the Dark Ocean Society were involved. 

Yukimura laughed again, and brushed away a strand of his hair, escaping from the tail. “We both want this conversation on our own terms, I see.” he said, with an amused smile. “Very well, this is a warning and a request all in one. Your words in the street have worried our higher-ups. In Japan, we wish for all of our citizens to put their support behind those who have been brave enough to give their lives for the Emperor. You would know this, since your father has given his own life for this sacred country.” he said, eyes flashing. Yanagi nodded, seriously, adjusting his tie a little under the force of the brilliant, cutting smile. “You would do well to keep quiet on issues like this and to not voice them to loyal patriots of this country and implicate them in anything.” Don’t tell Sanada anything of his misgivings ever again, wasn’t that what Yanagi had been pondering all week, anyway?

“However.” Yukimura continued, and this time the smile dropped, until he looked completely serious. “Your talents have not escaped our notice. Critical thinking about the war and our efforts in the war are crucial, if to avoid the deaths of our own soldiers in pointless ventures. Your skill in Chinese and your ability to blend into the background easily is something that can serve you well. If you would accept an offer, I would ask that you join your country in a different way to the rest of the soldiers of your class. It will gain you no honour and no glory, but somehow, I suspect that is what you would prefer.” Yukimura’s eyes sparkled, as if he knew exactly what Yanagi was thinking, and while it was not entirely accurate, Yanagi couldn’t help but feel a little chilled by how good their information was. 

“To be clear, you are offering me a position in the Dark Ocean Society? Or in the Kempeitai?” asked Yanagi, quietly. 

“Whichever you would prefer.” Yukimura said, with a light eyebrow raised. Of course, he assumed that Yanagi knew the differences between the two, which was not inaccurate. 

“Will I have time to think about this generous offer?” asked Yanagi, quietly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he would. Yukimura would not have revealed his identity as a member of Dark Ocean had he not been entirely sure of Yanagi’s eventual enrollment among their ranks. “And will I be told my role inside your organization?”

Yukimura raised an eyebrow. “You will have time. But I cannot tell you anything until you accept. Confidentiality, you understand.” There was a demand hidden inside his words: to join or to face the consequences to his treasonous words, and Yanagi exhaled. Confidentiality. That made him think of spying and he was sure that it wasn't by coincidence. Spying on whom, the poor people of China? He could see why his mother had told him to say no.

Still. Now that Yukimura had listed out all of his traits, he couldn’t help but feel a little like this job was for him. Probably _why_ Yukimura had listed out all of those points in such a ruthless manner. They hadn’t been wanting to recruit Sanada at all, they’d been wanting to recruit him. It all seemed to make more sense now. _Spying_. He didn’t know. Any sort of participation in the war meant blood on his hands. But as a spy, he could decide what information to give and not, depending on when lives were endangered. 

If he told Yukimura he needed time, he’d talk himself out of this. But then he remembered the white-haired man and the thrill of watching him disappear into thin air and the subtle threat of both requests being paired together. That was not by coincidence nor for convenience. 

With a silent apology to his mother, Yanagi nodded. “I don’t need that time. Thank you for your offer, I’ll be accepting it, once I am of age.”

Yukimura smirked, softly and got up to bow, softly. “I am pleased to hear that, Yanagi-kun. Wait for the truck at 6am on the morning after your birthday. The truck will take you to Nagasaki, where you’ll be briefed, and where you’ll likely spend a lot of time. I will see you then.” Placing the hat back on his head, Yukimura removed his jacket from the chair, and draped it over his shoulders, casually. “Remember what I advised you about. I’d hate to lose a talent like yours to carelessness.”

With that, he walked out of the door. He shone with a different light to Sanada’s, a light not so bright, nor so pure. But something about him made Yanagi rather eager to join the Dark Ocean Society, anyway. 

_(Sanada’s reaction to Yanagi’s announcement of his new enlistment was silence and a long hug, once again. He said nothing about the deployment nor of the burden and Yanagi was overwhelmingly grateful.)_

 

Despite the hot weather on Sanada’s birthday, Sanada’s mother insisted on holding his party in the garden, and none of the members of the extended-Sanada family refused her this, especially on the day of her son's departure. The mood made Yanagi's throat close up a little, hovering at the side of Sanada's festivities. Sanada had not even waited for his birthday to end. He would be heading for the Navy as soon as possible, and had ordered a car to wait for him at the end of the drive, for when the party finished. His mother fussed and his father looked disapproving, but his grandfather had been nodding slowly in content pleasure, and Yanagi knew that was one of the reasons that Sanada was leaving so prematurely. This was the first birthday that they would not be celebrating together, since they had met each other and Yanagi’s heart ached a little, for he knew there would be several more years yet of this trend. But he knew nothing would sway Sanada from his path, so said nothing to him, instead, letting Sanada read their silences well, as he always had. 

They had finally caught a breath and a break, right before Sanada had to leave, and Yanagi wished there had been more time for this, but at the same time, he was grateful for being the last person to see Sanada, here in the darkness at the side of the house.

“I won’t get to see your birthday. I’m sorry.” Sanada said, as the last of the neighbours and classmates were being seen off, back home. 

Yanagi shook his head, as he leant back further into the shadows. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing much. I’ll be leaving the next day after it. Duty calls for both of us.” They hadn’t talked about anything except being good patriots over these past few days, and Yanagi could feel the strain between them, the unanswered questions and the hurt. But then again, this was what they had been forced into and this was what they had chosen. The struggles of being good patriots. Sanada had chosen duty, and Yanagi had chosen Sanada's mental wellbeing. They couldn't regret it now.

“Do you wonder how things would be different if we had been born in any other time period?” asked Yanagi, softly and Sanada shrugged, adjusting the shoulder pads of his uniform. 

“Death and War has always been a constant of life, Renji. We’d never escape that. Duty will always plague us.” Which meant of course that Sanada had never considered it. Of course, even though they had read the same books, Sanada wasn’t prone to flights of fantasy. He was too grounded in his reality for that to happen. It had been a stupid question to ask. “I would wish that we would not be separated by this, though.” Sanada added, carefully, after looking behind him, carefully. “In another world, perhaps that would have been different. And that would not have been a bad thing.”

Yanagi exhaled and smiled, softly and Sanada, who returned it, tentatively, gaze not leaving Yanagi's, intense and dark. That was probably the closest he could get, to what he was craving. Yanagi walked him out, towards the main street. His uniform looked splendid, in the light of the setting sun and Yanagi swallowed heavily as Sanada adjusted the hat over his head. “I should head off now, Renji.” he said, quietly and Yanagi only smiled, bitterly. 

“I know.” he answered, quietly and regretfully. Just a month ago, he would have been on his way to following him. But circumstances rarely worked out the way that Yanagi wanted them to be, and he followed a different path. 

Sanada placed a hand on Yanagi’s shoulder. “I leave you, to go the road we all must go. The road I would choose, if only I could, is the other.” he quoted, and this time, there was little humour in his quotation of Genji. 

“You would not suit my road. And I would not suit yours.” Yanagi said, quietly, placing his own hand over Sanada’s. “But I will meet you again. At the end of all of this. But you must promise to come back. No noble sacrifices for this country. It is better to live for the Emperor than to die for him.”

Sanada nodded, though Yanagi wasn’t sure that Sanada would ever take those words to heart. The sunshine bounced off his hair, making him look golden and bright, for one last time. Yanagi wondered whether the light would glow from Sanada, godtouched and strong, when he came back from all of this. Would he be more tempered, like Yukimura, in a different, colder way? Or would the glow fade, as he killed others and tainted his soul and his pure, strong conviction? He could not bear that thought, so he turned away as Sanada walked away from the house, to hold the image of Sanada’s glow inside him, until the end of this debacle.

**Author's Note:**

> (1) In Showa Period Japan, people hadn’t figured out that hydration was a thing that was good. Everybody figured that water was bad for you, so it wasn’t until 1963 and the advent of Gatorade, that the long-held assumption of water making your muscles cramp was disproved. 
> 
> (2) Kokutai no Hongi was one of the main texts disseminated and made mandatory for reading for elementary schoolers in Showa Japan. Basically the document was about the political and ethical policies of Japan and very subtly preached racial and political superiority to the rest of the world, as well as a not so subtle god-worship of the Emperor. 
> 
> (3) The Tale of Genji is a popular tale of the romantic court life of Heian Japan, and is the first ever written novel. From my experience, it’s slightly dull and very much a product of the misogynistic time, but is very quotable.
> 
> (4) Nii-san means elder brother in Japanese. 
> 
> (5) Kempeitai were akin to the Gestapo, in that they were a sort of Secret Police. However, the Kempeitai also had more presences abroad, in Korea and Manchuria especially, during this pre-war period. 
> 
> (6) Just like there are technical and academic high schools nowadays in Japan, so it was back then, except the branching off happened after elementary school and not after middle school. Specialized schools are the schools that feed directly to a job, while the youth schools are more traditional ones that feed into the universities. 
> 
> (7) Kokoro was a popular book by Soseki at the time, and while its popularity fell during the wartime era and the re-emergence of compliance with Confucianism, it’s considered one of the main books that depicts the guilt of modernization and finding self over community. 
> 
> (And yes, Sanada Nobusuke was deployed to Nanking, to take part in the massacre that China still holds against Japan and which Japan refuses to acknowledge properly, especially with new revisionist textbooks)


End file.
